As I Think of This Day.

I don’t want to move
From this bed here, this shelter
If I just close my eyes
Can I just sleep through this day

Out there is the world 
That frustrates and upsets me
I push and I struggle
Just to get through each day

I have friends who embrace me
And joke alongside me
Include me in what
They arrange for some days

Yet depression still grabs me
Immobile I lay here
Unable to think
Or do much with this day

To closed eyes keep drifting
To dreams my head shifting
Too heavy my body
Will not move for today


[ if you can remind me of the poetic metre or pattern that I have used here, please speak up, as my memory and searching have not been fruitful today ]


Brain Interrupts.

Trying to work

You know,

Productivity that pays
 the bills

And I find myself haunted
 by creativity, 

The need to make

That idea
 that I didn’t stay up late to work on

I see it completed in my mind’s eye
( Like my vivid dreams )

Compelled to bring into existence

Hand crafted 
 artistic, poetic, meaningness

What is this powerful force?

My dreams of music 
 linger less

Because I doubt those abilities?

But so much I start

Becomes stalled 
 when interrupted by hidden illness
 invisible illness, exhaustion

Clashing personal needs

Meet personal responsibilities

Is there ever freedom?

So Tired.

Tired of hurting
Tired of pain
Tired of exhaustion
Tired of fogginess
Tired of (not) achieving
Tired of struggle
Tired of worrying
Tired of missing
Tired of loneliness
Tired of doubt
Tired of heartache
Tired of longing
Tired of expectations
Tired of sickness
Tired of pushing

So I took the day to myself
To rest, read, listen
Let my head clear
Let my body recover
To lend my mind
to nothing it normally considers
or to nothing at all
It’s not peaceful or pleasant
It’s just quiet, for now
And I hear the world outside
And for the first time in ages
I hear the sounds of life

Community. (Reblog)

Right here
Are people that understand
Realising past mistakes and changing
Is enough
You were never meant to suffer
The struggle is not deserved
It is just there for now
Hold on
We are patient

Sidereal Catalyst

I am aching to belong… to something …or somewhere, with like-minded, like-hearted souls.

People who get it, without tired explanations and long-winded discussions trying to impart understanding.

People who lift you up because that’s their magic, and they don’t judge and they’re not made uncomfortable by your difficult emotions.

People who don’t make it feel like an inconvenience, they are delighted to chat, be it happy or sad in topic.  I think some people call these types of relationships friends but I’m wary of such titles.  I fear I’ve failed at holding that title myself, and thus karma has given me what I’ve deserved in return.

I ache for a sense of community.

Are you out there somewhere, community?  Just waiting for me to poke my head in and say hi…

I’ve lost my way, I think my GPS is wrong or something.



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I Wish I Was Special [A poem about suicide – trigger warning]. (Reblog)

So many beautiful people are struggling right now. This poem is a reminder of what we all need to know.

Pooky's Poems

I wish I was special,
She cried
As she caught sight of her reflection.
Tears streaked her face.

She clung onto her palm full of pills
As if for dear life,
Though it was death,
Not life,
She hoped they’d bring.
She did not want to die
But she could not face this life any more.

She had sat this way for hours,
On the brink of the action
Which would take away the pain,
But without the motivation to do it.
Which made her feel
Ever more a failure.

A voice penetrated her bubble,
A hand gently took hers,
Brushing the damp, crumbled pills away,
And soothing her with tiny movements.
You are special.
Said the voice,
You just can’t see it now.
You won’t see it tomorrow,
Or the next day,
But one day you will.
I’ll teach you,
If you’ll let me try.

The world…

View original post 61 more words

All That Mattered.

[ I decided to have a go at illuminating the text of this poem I wrote. In the end I scanned my two drafts drawn with artist fine-tip felt pen on paper and made adjustments on my computer. Then coloured the background using a phone image app. Happy with the final result, mostly hand work and a little computer finishing off. ]

Original text.

Up Late, Away From You.

You said
It’s nice when my bunny’s tuckled up next to me.
I know you feel that way, and
I would join you there more often
But you rarely give me reason to
When it’s late and you try to coax me to bed
It feels as if you are using your words
to manipulate and shame me into compliance
And I push back against that
Reject it
So you feel my rejection
But don’t realise your contribution.
I know you are “naturally” grumpy when you are tired
But not ever talking levelly with me about these situations
or making the effort to discuss, at a suitable time
Doesn’t satisfy my need for full communication.
And putting up with your
Badgering or belittling me
With words or tone of voice
Leaves me colder and more frustrated
More unloved and ignored
Than before.
I know you are making an effort
to be gentler and more supportive to me
And I recognise that occurrence
But I’m caught in years and years
And years and my own tears of this
Regular repeated negativity
So understand if I struggle to detect the difference
that tonight’s attitude contained
And I still wonder why you never tried love
Or at least honey coating it
To get me to do what you want
Or endeavoured to understand
What’s going on for me
When I choose my time, late, alone
Or need to write out my thoughts
after coming to bed;
When I choose to be
up late, away from you.